More Layers: Book Two Layers Series (13 page)

“Thanks for showing me your cars, Chase.”

“Anytime, dude.” They knuckle bump, then Chase walks to me, I pick him up and give him a kiss.

“Love you, little man.”

“Love you, Mommy. You be good and don’t be late for dinner.”

“I’ll do my very best.”

He nods and I put him down.

“Okay, my little man,” Gram says, “let’s get going.”

Chase walks back to Jaxson and holds out his hand. “It was nice to meet you, Dad.”

Jaxson stares at him for a few seconds. I watch a tear roll down his cheek. He puts his arms around his son and holds him tight. “More than nice to meet you, son.”

Chase pulls away then runs out the door with his brother in tow.

Gram clears her throat—obviously just as affected by what just played out. “Mr. Ryan,” she says.

He turns. “Lizbet.”

“Call my office tomorrow, and we will talk about what’s next for Ryan.”

“You?” he asks

“Yes, it was me. I took over Ryan.”

She nods to me and shuts the door.

Goddamn that woman and her Prada-wearing, interfering ass.

* * *

Jaxson remains kneeling for a minute. We don’t speak. There is nothing I can say to him that will make what’s about to happen painless.

He stands, walks to a chair and sits. He looks at me, but he’s not seeing me. He stands again and paces for a minute, then sits back down. He repeats this process a few times. He seems stunned, happy, hurt, and disappointed.

He wipes a tear off his cheek and stands. He looks at me. “I...I...don’t...I don’t know what to say to you.” He closes his eyes then opens them. “I can’t look at you. I’ve never been more...disappointed in my life. I can’t believe that you could ever do something so cruel and selfish. I have sons.”

“Jaxson, I...”

“How could you...?”

“I came back to tell you.”

He shakes his head. “You came back to tell me.” He huffs and throws up his hands. “I don’t care what you believed I’d done...you had no right to keep me from my sons!” he shouts.

“I’ve been trying to tell you for weeks, but you’ve been too busy. I didn’t want to tell you on the phone, or by text.”

“The last few weeks? My God, Alexia, you’ve had almost three years to tell me.”

“I was going to tell you after they were born, but you forgot about me, gave up on us in just weeks, I couldn’t let you do that to them.”

“But I didn’t forget and give up on you.”

“I know that now. God, Jax, I wasn’t wanted—ever. Do you know what that does to a kid? I just couldn’t do it to them.”

“You have no right to lump me in the same category as your fucked-up parents and your fucked- up friends and ex-husband. I’m nothing like them.”

“You have to look at things from my perspective. I’ve never had a non-gay man love me—for me. Men want me for four reasons:
money, status, sex, and more money. Mix in fucked-up parents, fucked-up childhood and an ex-wife in a sheet. Can you blame me for not wanting to add my sons to the mess?”

“I’m sorry about your fucked-up life and what it’s done to your ‘perspective.’ You can try to justify what you’ve done, but it’s not going to make it right. Keeping me from knowing, from being with my sons, is and was selfish, immoral, and fucked up.”

“I’m not trying to justify my behavior. I’m asking for your empathy and forgiveness.”

“I thought there was nothing you could do, that I couldn’t forgive...but I was wrong. I’ll never forgive you for this.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do.”

He stands and walks to the door. “I need time to...digest...this, them, us. I just...I can’t believe what you’ve done.

“Jaxson, I’m sorry...God, I’m so sorry.”

He laughs. “Sorry is not going to make this better.”

“Jaxson...I love you.”

“You don’t know what love is, Alexia.”

“I’ll contact you...when I can, and we’ll talk about...my sons.”

I nod and he walks out and shuts the door.

I’m lower than sub-pond scum. I’m slime-scum.

Unhappy Thanksgiving

Alexia

“What are you doing in here?” Jules asks me.

“Sitting.”

“I can see that.”

She sits next to me and picks up a hors d’oeuvre.

I hold up a bottle of wine.

She nods and I pour her a glass.

“This is Thanksgiving you know.”

“Really?”

“Smart ass. I was going to say that today is a day to give thanks for what we have. It’s not a day to mope around and pine over what we don’t have.”

“I’m not pining.”

“Really? Then what do you call sitting in the kitchen alone while your family and friends are gathered in the other room being grateful and thankful to be here and to have each other.”

“Okay, I’m feeling a little sorry for myself. But I am grateful. I’m grateful for my family, my friends, my home, and my life. I just hoped that our first Thanksgiving would be...different.”

“Girlfriend, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. He’s an asshole and a stupid fuck. And if he can’t find it in his wee blackened heart to forgive you, then he’s not worth it.”

“He said he’d never forgive me.”

“Well, like I said—stupid fuck. Lex, we all say things we don’t mean when we’re angry.”

“He’s not just angry, he hates me.”

“He doesn’t hate you Lex, he needs more time to be stupid, but he’ll come around.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“It’s not like you haven’t been trying to meet with him for the last few weeks. Did he ever say why he was blowing you off?”

“He said he’s been busy, and Mia hasn’t been feeling well.”

“Fuck Mia.”

“I’ll drink to that, girlfriend.”

We laugh and tap wine glasses.

“Why the hell did you invite her to dinner?”

“I didn’t want to. Chase and JB begged me to invite their father. I said no, then they gave me their pleading, desperate puppy-dog eyes and I gave in. I’m a wuss when it comes to those eyes.”

“I get that, but why couldn’t he come without her?”

“He didn’t want to leave her home by herself on Thanksgiving.”

Jules frowns. “That sucks.”

“Big time.”

“But the thing is...why does he even care? Especially after her bed sheet performance, he should have filed for divorce and said good riddance and go fuck yourself.”

“He’s worried about the baby.”

“It’s too late for her to get an abortion. And you and I both know that she’s not going to destroy her only connection to Jaxson.”

“I agree, but I can’t even get the man to say more than two one-syllable words to me.”

“Stupid fuck.”

“I’m probably just reading it wrong but I think and feel that something...I don’t know? Just isn’t right.”

“But what?”

“Not a clue.”

“So how are the boys adapting to all this change?”

“Okay, I guess. They’ve been asking me a lot of big questions that I can’t answer.”

“What have you told them?”

“Not much. How does one explain things to two almost three year olds—going on twelve, things you don’t understand yourself?”

“Don’t have clue.”

“JB seems okay with his dad and everything, but Chase is...”

“Chase.”

“Yes, he’s sitting on the fence—thinking.”

“I get that.”

“So do I. He’s so much like me sometimes. Taking on everything and believing it’s his responsibility. He figured out Jaxson was his father before I got a chance to tell him and he’s...”

“Confused?”

“Yes. And angry.”

Jules sighs, as she picks up the wine bottle and refills our glasses. “What are you going to do about Mia?”

“What the fuck can I do about her? She’s married to the man I love—a man that can’t look at me. He can’t fucking stand her but he lives with her, and according to Carrie and the boys, he’s on the phone with her all the time. Carrie said that Mia called ten times during their two-hour zoo trip.”

We sit and drink in silence for a few minutes.

“I just don’t get it.”

“Maybe she has a magic pussy?” Jules says.

Sam enters the kitchen. “Who has a magic pussy?”

“Mia,” Jules answers.

“Mia. Shut the front fucking door. No friggin’ way does Mia have a magic pussy.”

“What the fuck is a magic pussy?” I ask.

They both look at me as if I’ve asked the stupidest question—ever.

“Who has a magic pussy?” Lane asks as he enters the kitchen.

“Jules said that Mia has a magic pussy,” I answer.

“I said ‘maybe’ she does.”

“No friggin’ way does she have a magic pussy,” Lane adds.

“What’s a magic pussy?” I ask again.

“Who has a magic pussy?” Gram asks as she enters the kitchen.

“Jules said maybe Mia has a magic pussy,” Sam tells her.

“Mia. Mia Ryan. The woman that I just greeted at the door? No fucking way.”

Holy hell, even Gram knows what a magic pussy is. “Would someone please tell me, what’s a magic pussy?”

Everyone ignores me.

“So they’re here?” Sam asks her.

Gram rolls her eyes at her. “Did I not just say I greeted them at the door?”

I couldn’t care less about Mia. I want to know what a magic pussy is, and where do I have to go or what do I have to do, to get one.

Gram sits next to me and pours herself a glass of wine. “I’m disappointed, I expected...more I guess. And what’s with those enormous ta-tas?”

We all laugh.

“Well, dear,” Gram tells me, “if that’s what Jaxson’s into—elves with huge tits—you haven’t a chance in hell.”

“Thanks, Gram. That makes me feel so much better.”

“Jaxson must see something we don’t or, he’s mentally impaired. Maybe I shouldn’t have offered him a job.”

“Or maybe we’re all wrong, and she does have a magic pussy,” Jules adds.

Marco walks in. “Who has a magic pussy?”

“You know what a magic pussy is?” I ask him.

He smirks. “Of course I know what it is.”

I’m fucked. Even my gaywad friend knows what it is. Now I’m too embarrassed to ask.

Henry walks in. “So this is where the party has moved to.”

I’ll bet you he knows, what an MP is.

Mary walks in. “Why are you all in here? Stewart sent me in to find everyone. Nick is talking to Jaxson while the boys climb all over him and Stewart is stuck trying to converse with Mia. Need I say more?”

“Go and greet them Alexia,” Gram says.

“Why?”

“Because this is your home.”

“So?”

“Show them that you put your sons’ welfare and happiness above all else.”

Who does she think she’s talking to? She never put her granddaughters’ welfare and happiness above all else.

Lane and Henry help Mary takes the food out to the living area, and everyone but Sam follows.

Sam puts her arms around me. “Don’t let her get to you. You’re a good mother, and your welfare and happiness are just as important.”

I give her a squeeze. “Thanks, sis.”

She takes my hand. “Let’s go greet Mr. and Mrs. Tinker Hell.”

* * *

“Mia,” Gram asks. “What do you do?”

“Do?” she answers.

We have been sitting at the dinner table for over an hour. The boys are getting restless and my plastered smile is beginning to crumple.

“I’m bored,” Chase says, “I want pie.”

“Me too,” Lane says and they knuckle bump.

“And then there were three,” Sam quips.

“Three what?” Lanes asks.

“Toddlers.”

“I’m not a toddler, I’m a little man,” JB says.

“Me too,” Chase adds.

“I stand corrected,” Sam says, “then there was one.”

Lane grins. “Whatever.”

“Mia?” Gram says with a raised voice that stops all other conversation, “I’m waiting for your answer.”

“I don’t understand the question.”

Gram lifts a perfect brow. Mia is about to receive the
Wrath of Gram
—worse that the
Wrath of Khan.
Better to have a bug eating out your brain than Gram on your back.

“Where do you work? What is your profession? For example: Alexia is the CEO for Grant International. That means she’s the boss, the head of the company. Sam is a structural engineer. That means she designs and builds things. And Jules is a divorce attorney. I think you can understand that one, right?”

Sam giggles.

I bite my lip.

And everyone else, except for Jaxson, smiles.

Mia smiles. She has no idea whom she is dealing with. That smile is going to be wiped off her face, ground into powder.

“I don’t have a career. My father was old-fashioned.” She laughs. “He didn’t believe women of class should work.”

Gram stares and her for a few seconds, then says. “Please explain, ‘women of class?’“

“Women like me.”

Jules chokes on her wine and Nick pats her back.

Gram waits impatiently for her to elaborate. When she doesn’t, Gram continues.

“What kind of woman are you?”

“I’m me.”

Jules was right. Mia has the personality of a gnat and quite possibly the brain of one.

“Perhaps your father wasn’t old-fashioned. Perhaps he was wise in keeping you...from working. Keeping you away...from important things.”

“Amen to that,” Lane says.

Stewart intervenes. “If you don’t work, Mia, then what do you do with your time?”

“This and that,” she replies and takes another bite of turkey.

“Can you elaborate?” he asks.

“I just do stuff, you know.”

Sam snorts.

Stewart frowns at her.

This has got to be one of the most boring conversations—ever.

“Mia,” Gram asks, “if Stewart knew what ‘this and that’ were, or what ‘stuff’ consisted of, he wouldn’t have taken the time to ask you.”

Stewart puts his hand over Gram’s and shakes his head, saying back off.

Gram nods.

I don’t know how he does it, but the man can get her to do most anything. The power of love, I suppose.

Henry taps his wine glass with his fork and then raises it. “To Jaxson. Congratulations on your marriage. You’ve got yourself quite the little catch.”

Everyone raises his or her glass while trying not to laugh.

Jaxson looks uncomfortable and embarrassed. I feel sorry for him, for about three seconds.